Constant Companion (A 2011 The Three Musketeers Fanfiction)

Chapter Eighteen

Taking a deep breath, I let myself fall to the deck. I tumbled off my feet, momentarily out of breath. “Ow,” I finally groaned. I really hoped the queen appreciated everything I was doing. I picked myself up and brushed at my skirt out of habit. How to find D'Artagnan?

Many of the cardinal's men were laying on the deck, whether merely unconscious or dead, I couldn't be sure. I prayed I would not find D'Artagnan or any of my new friends in such a position. I was about to go below when I heard the distance, yet familiar sound of steel clashing against steel.

Moving quickly, I crossed to the railing and looked down. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the scene. Down below, on the ridge of the cathedral roof, D'Artagnan and Rochefort were dueling. The ridge of the roof was barely wide enough for them to stand on!

I caught sight of something sparkling on Rochefort's belt. He still had the diamonds! No wonder D'Artagnan had chosen to go after him. Or was something else driving D'Artagnan?

As I watched, I gasped as Rochefort's blade sliced D'Artagnan's arm. D'Artagnan recoiled, grabbing his left arm in pain. He kept fighting though, making me both proud and worried. And when Rochefort brought forth a second, smaller blade, I wanted to scream at the unfairness of it.

I heard footsteps behind me. Friend or foe? I couldn't be sure, and ducked to hide behind some wreckage. When I lifted my head, I could see the familiar figure of Jussac. He had a rifle in his hands, and was aiming at the two men dueling. He was going to shoot D'Artagnan?

Not if I had anything to say about it!

I searched the deck, and found a small enough metal piece that I could lift. Jussac's finger was just tightening on the trigger when I put my hand in front of the scope. He looked up in surprise, and I swung my weapon as hard as I could, striking his head. He fell to the ground, and I glared down at him.

“That's my man,” I told him firmly.

A cry caught my attention, and I looked back down. Rochefort had managed to slice my brave Gascon's side. I knew if I called out, I would just distract D'Artagnan, but it was agony just watching. Especially when, having been forced into twisting around so that his back was to Rochefort, D'Artagnan blocked Rochefort's blade with the back of his hand.

I cringed. How could D'Artagnan keep going with so many bleeding wounds? He was moving with determination, finally knocking that smaller blade from Rochefort's grasp. I was on the verge of cheering when I saw D'Artagnan finally land a serious blow, imbedding his sword into his opponent's shoulder.

But Rochefort seemed unaffected. He grabbed the blade with his own gloved hands, and pushed D'Artagnan's blade out. With ease, he pushed D'Artagnan closer and closer to the edge of the roof. In a flash, he was close enough to grab D'Artagnan's throat, trying to push him off.

I held my breath, praying D'Artagnan was clever enough to find a way to defeat this man who had so much more experience. D'Artagnan clawed at Rochefort's face, pushing him back. But Rochefort still had tricks up his sleeve.

He grabbed onto D'Artagnan's arm, pushing him towards the other side, blocking my view. The next thing I knew he shoved and let go. D'Artagnan vanished from sight.

“No!” I gasped. I scrambled to get a better view. Grief tore at my heart until I saw Rochefort shake his head and scramble to find a way to get down. I saw what had him annoyed: D'Artagnan clung to one of the gargoyles, still alive and still fighting.

There were people on the ground, looking up in amazement at what had happened and what was still happening. I leaned over the side of the ship as far as I dared. D'Artagnan pulled himself up onto the wide ledge, but he was without his blade.

And then, Rochefort was in front of him. D'Artagnan looked down briefly, and I wondered what had his attention. He darted forward, going at Rochefort. When the cardinal's man swung at him, D'Artagnan jumped and slide on the roof. He spun to face Rochefort, a blade flipping up into the air and then into his hand.

I marveled that he could keep fighting, so determined and focused that he ignored his injuries. He was losing his speed, though, and if someone such as I, who knew nothing about sword fighting, could see it, I knew without a doubt that Rochefort could also see it and was using it to his advantage.

D'Artagnan was pushed out onto a stone gargoyle, mush like the one that had saved him when he fell. I knew there wasn't anything to save him if he were to lose his balance now. He was forced to catch Rochefort blade in his left hand, and I cringed again, imaging the pain of steel slicing his palm.

If -no, when!- he survived this, I vowed to get him some gloves so that he wouldn't harm his hands in such a way again.

Pushing Rochefort's blade away, he went on the attack. I saw movement in the corner of my eye, and I tensed, tightening my grip on my own weapon. But it was only Athos, looking none the worse for wear.

“The fool,” I heard him say as he took in the scene.

Rochefort got D'Artagnan in a headlock, their blades locked. He tried to push D'Artagnan off the edge, and they were so close, I screamed in fear, “D'Artagnan!”

Beside me, Athos snatched up the rifle that Jussac had held. D'Artagnan shoved Rochefort away, but his blade went flying up in the air. “No,” I breathed. “D'Artagnan.”

Certain of victory, Rochefort held his hand up to catch D'Artagnan's blade. Athos fired, making my ears ringing. D'Artagnan's blade spun wildly, and landed in D'Artagnan's waiting hand. He struck swiftly, knocking the other blade side and stabbing Rochefort.

He said something that didn't reach where I stood and let go of the the blade, leaving it in Rochefort's chest. I didn't know what to think as I glanced from the scene to Athos and then back. D'Artagnan took the diamonds from Rochefort's belt and Rochefort fell over the side.

Grabbing his side, D'Artagnan came towards the steps to make his way back up to the ships.

“That was an incredible shot,” I said in the sudden silence.

“Not really,” Athos answered. “I was aiming for his head.”

He walked away, leaving me dumbfounded. “Oh,” I said. I supposed I should be grateful he hadn't hit D'Artagnan. I shook my head and hurried to be the one to greet D'Artagnan.

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A/N: I included the deleted/extended scene with this chapter.